Gap Year Aftermath
by Igorina
Summary: After an eventful gap year the first week of university proves almost unbearably awkward for Wensleydale. [Features my first attempt WensleydaleBrian]


Disclaimer: None of the characters or locales to be found within this ficlet belong to me in any way, shape or form.

A/N: This ficlet ties in with a much longer story I'm currently working on, which focuses on The Them's university years. The italicised part of this ficlet was initially intended as a stand alone drabble for the goodomens100 'Holiday' challenge; however, as always, I had trouble just leaving it at that.

**The Precursor**

_Pepper couldn't sleep. The ground was uncomfortably uneven, and the tent seemed to have sprung a leak. It was times like this that she began to question the wisdom of backpacking before university._

It was then that she heard it. A sort of half-cry half-shout emanating from the direction of Brian and Wensleydale's tent.

She froze for a moment, not sure quite what to do.

After a few moments it was there again. Except this time it distinctly resembled somebody moaning the name 'Brian'.

Eyebrows shot up in realisation.

Well, her mother had said that gap years were mind broadening.

**The Aftermath**

Wensleydale had spent most of Freshers Week alone in his room. Whilst the rest of the first years were getting obscenely drunk in the Students' Union pub, he had been half-heartedly going through his timetable for the next term, trying not to dwell on the reason why he wasn't joining his fellow students in time honoured pursuit of total and utter inebriation. The reason, of course, was Brian. Well, not so much Brian as such. After all, Brian - though a complete lunatic at times - possessed no intrinsic qualities that would necessitate this degree of avoidance. It was more what had happened between the two of them in a shoddily made tent, half-way up the side of a mountain, in the middle of the Andes.

Things had been impossibly awkward between the two of them afterwards. So much so that Wensleydale had pleaded food poisoning in Peru, and flown home at the earliest opportunity; cutting his gap year short by three months. Three months, which had inevitably been spent in a state of perpetual anxiety about what would happen when the rest of The Them finally got back. It wouldn't have been quite so bad if Pepper hadn't been surreptitiously shooting Adam those 'knowing' raised eyebrow glances, as he and Brian had hesitantly greeted each other outside the Heathrow terminal.

Never had a handshake been so ostentatiously firm, masculine and emotionally stunted.

He had hoped that things would have got back to relative normality by the time they moved into the shared flat at the newly - and rather unexpectedly - built University of Tadfield.

They hadn't.

Of verbal exchanges they engaged in over the past four days 90 had pertained to the location of the tomato ketchup. They'd had one conversation whilst standing in line for their enrolment forms; it had been about all of the predictable weather they'd been having lately.

He couldn't talk to Pepper. She had long ago made it clear that she wasn't going to assume the 'sexist and outdated' role of The Woman - and thereby de facto counsellor and relationship expert - in the group, and would probably tell him to talk to Brian.

He couldn't talk to Adam, owing to the fact that he was… well, Adam.

He'd considered making an appointment to see somebody at the student counselling centre, but there had been something distinctly weird, and strangely familiar, about the man in office 666, wearing the 'Hi I'm Anthony' badge.

He hadn't considered talking to Brian. The idea was really just too ludicrous and (rather more importantly) frightening to consider.

So he'd made excuses to stay in his room. Adam and Pepper had been sympathetic when he'd told them about the headaches and tonsillitis and stomach upsets, though they had looked a bit doubtful when he had mentioned the early onset rheumatoid arthritis.  
The room was nice enough, as far as student accommodation went. It just got a little claustrophobic, and frankly boring, after a few hours.

It was therefore, an extremely good job that the knock on the door came just before Wensleydale was forced to sit through yet another repeat of ER.

"Who is it?" he called, in what he hoped would be a voice weak enough to pass for glandular fever should Pepper try to insist that he come out for a drink or seventeen.

To his complete shock and amazement, the head of messy brown hair that appeared from around the door belonged to neither Pepper nor Adam.

"Er… I was wondering if I could… er… come in and… er….talk about… stuff." said Brian, eyes fixed on what was clearly a really fascinating patch of uniform beige carpet. "You know, if you wanted to." He added hastily.

For a few seconds the expression on Wensleydale's face would have landed him the 'Annual Petrified Rabbit Caught in Headlights Impersonator Award'. He was therefore very surprised to find himself, not hastily rattling off a warning about his suspected smallpox, but rather gesturing to the desk chair and asking him to come in.

At the other end of the corridor a temporarily unnoticed young man, with almost striking blonde hair, smiled to himself and headed towards the stairs. It wasn't right, in his opinion, to mess about with peoples' heads and make them do things that they wouldn't usually chose to do. But occasionally, under special circumstances, a tiny bit prompting had to be okay; especially if they were as dense as Brian and Wensley.


End file.
